On the bridge again

We went to the bridge again last night, carrying candles to stand in vigil and protest on the fourth anniversary of the beginning of the Iraq war. The candles were not much use, as daylight savings time has begun, and the sun doesn't set until after 7:30, but we stood in the biting March wind as it swept down the Mississippi, in company with a hundred or two others of all ages, shapes and sizes.

The Lake Street bridge over the Mississippi is designated as a Peace Bridge, and every Wednesday afternoon sees a vigil for peace, which began as a protest against sanctions many years ago. Sanctions then, war now, the same bloody, evil policies of a government, our government, that sees power as a blunt instrument to batter those who will not bow.

This is not the Zocalo in Mexico City, filled with tens or hundreds of thousands of protesters, but it is one of our spaces for public standing. What has changed is not the commitment of the protesters, but the attitudes of those driving past. A few years ago, on a Wednesday afternoon, Molly and I stood there and counted the number of passing cars showing approval versus the number showing disapproval -- thumbs up or down, peace signs, honking. Most, of course, went by without a signal at all.

Tonight, I saw only a single thumbs-down and no middle finger salutes, but what was more remarkable was that the vast majority of all the people in cars driving past on Lake Street honked in agreement, showed peace signs, waved, gave a thumbs-up signal. I know the polls say that we-the-people overwhelmingly oppose the war, but here was the actual, physical sign. The people have changed, the votes have chagned Congress--and yet the war continues.

We cannot stop at vigils, when they do not change realities. What's next?

All in Minnesota

This is what democracy looks like. Fifty people at the table—Barbara, Yusef, Pablo, Anne, Yasim, Antonia, Martha, Ricky, Woli, Iztchel. New immigrants and old immigrants, representing all parts of the world. New immigrants tonight speak with accents of Liberia, Mexico, Russia, Ecuador, Somalia and more.

Tonight we gather, representing a few dozen organizations or ourselves as individuals. AFFIRM—the Alliance for Fair Federal Immigration Reform of Minnesota—has convened this community meeting to share concerns about immigration issues and, possibly, to find common ground and a way to work together.

One woman brings her niece and granddaughter, a few couples come together, a few more people bring little children. Many teenagers are here—tonight's discussion on immigration hits close to home for them.

D--- is a senior in high school. She wants to go to college next year. She has gone through high school in Minnesota, but she does not have immigration documents.

The Minnesota Dream Act, now before the legislature, could make it possible for many of them to go to college. The federal DREAM Act, now re-introduced in Congress, could provide them a path to legalization and citizenship.

W--- does not say what country she came from, only that she was tortured, a lot, before she got out many years ago. And that she values her association with the Minnesota Center for Victims of Torture.

R--- sells real estate, is nearing completion of a B.A. in business at Metro State and plans to continue for an MBA at St. Thomas. We joke about how many houses he will have to sell to pay for that tuition. He tells me that 70% of the Mexican immigrants to Minnesota are, like himself, originally from the Mexican state of Morelos.

G--- insists that the state demographer undercounts Russian immigrants, saying there are only 15,000 Russian immigrants in Minnesota. He is sure the real number is 50,000, and wants to do something about the undercounting.

Another woman brings her concern about foreign professionals to the table, saying that Minnesota will not allow foreign doctors to serve as interns or residents here, though other states do so. She wants a way for immigrants who are professionals to become licensed and work in their fields.

M--- wants a path to legalization for her husband. She is a U.S. citizen. He is not.

Another woman raises concerns about her Liberian-Minnesotan community, who now face an end to the Temporary Protected Status under which they have been living for years. Now the U.S. government has decreed that Liberia is no longer dangerous and that they must return by October, abandoning homes, jobs, and families here.

So many people, ages, jobs, nationalities. One hope—to continue to live together as Minnesotans.